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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343919">Are You Sleeping?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick'>trashcangimmick</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fix-It, Gen, Post S3, Purgatory, The Upside Down, referenced character death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:42:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343919</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy and Hopper find each other in the upside down.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove &amp; Jim "Chief" Hopper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>158</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Are You Sleeping?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s a faint tapping on the glass window of the Camaro. Billy startles. He’s bolt upright in seconds, scrambling away from the source of the noise. It’s dark. It’s always dark here. Never anything but sickly yellow moonlight, or bruised orange skies. Billy hasn’t seen the sun in such a long time. </p><p> </p><p>He looks for the source of the noise. Squints a little. The windows are streaked with ash and grime, the same way everything is here. But Billy can see a shape. As his eyes adjust, he can tell it’s a tall, broad shape. It hasn’t attacked the car yet, which is unusual. </p><p> </p><p>There’s something about the car that they don’t like. They’ll break through wooden walls in a heartbeat. But they usually launch themselves at the car once or twice before retreating. </p><p> </p><p>Billy doesn’t know why. There’s something vague in his head about fairy tale creatures and ghosts not liking iron, but that seems stupid. He doesn’t really care about explanations anymore. He’s learned to just take things at face value. The dogs with horrible faces don’t break into his car. That’s enough. </p><p> </p><p>“Hargrove?” A somewhat familiar voice floats through the dusty air. That’s not new. The really awful monsters can sound like anybody. </p><p> </p><p>Billy always figured he’d probably go to hell if there was an afterlife. He was betting on death being the finite end. Maybe this is hell. Instead of fire and brimstone he’s just stuck with his own memories and the occasional eldritch horror. </p><p> </p><p>“Hargrove.” There are knuckles on the glass. Whatever’s outside is trying to look human. Billy ain’t gonna fall for that one. He knows some varieties of these things can look however they want. They can look like Max, or Steve, or Neil, or even Billy. They can make him look into a three-dimensional mirror and tell him what a worthless piece of shit he is. It’s his fault they’re all trapped. He did this. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck off.” Billy grunts. He lies back down. If it wants to mess with him, it will. Billy’s not gonna waste energy on fighting it. </p><p> </p><p>And then the car door is opening. Billy closes his eyes. Braces himself. </p><p> </p><p>He can’t die here. He’s already dead. If something with claws and teeth decides to rip him to shreds, the skin grows back. His heart always jumpstarts after going still. He feels the pain of it in exquisite detail. He’ll eventually pass out when he goes into shock from blood loss. Then he wakes up like nothing happened. </p><p> </p><p>No claws or teeth sink into his ankle to drag him out into the rancid dirt below. Instead it’s just prodding at him. Trying to shake him awake. </p><p> </p><p>“Wake up. C’mon, kid. <em> Please.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Billy slits his eyes open. Huh. Today it looks like the fuckin’ police chief. That asshole who pulled Billy over for speeding, and gave him tickets for drinking, and generally harassed him for existing. Because Billy’s got long hair, and a pierced ear, and a ‘bad attitude’ that rubs old men with authoritarian sensibilities the exact wrong way. Interesting choice. He’s wearing a uniform, but not the typical one. It’s also pretty torn up. Billy’s clothes aren’t any better. He abandoned the wifebeater a long time ago. He’s down to jeans so ripped they barely cover him and his boots. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh christ.” It breathes, laughing a little hysterically. “Thank fucking Jesus. You—you’re alive. I can’t believe it.”</p><p> </p><p>That’s also new. Usually it lays into him right away. Doesn’t bother with any acting or preamble. Maybe it’s evolving. Wants to make him hope for a minute that he’s not alone here. </p><p> </p><p>He knows better. </p><p> </p><p>“Look, can we just get on with this? I was sleeping.” Billy doesn’t bother to sit up. He closes his eyes again. What’s it matter if most of what he does is sleep? What else is there to do. He’s not hungry, or thirsty, or anything like that. He doesn’t need anything to survive here. He’s not surviving. He’s just existing. And it sucks. So he spends as much time as he can in a colorless void where he doesn’t dream. </p><p> </p><p>“Get on with what?”</p><p> </p><p>Billy doesn’t dignify that with a response. The thing starts poking him again. </p><p> </p><p>“C’mon, kid. We should keep moving. There were some fuckin’ dogs following me a little bit ago.”</p><p> </p><p>God. Billy sits up again. He opens his eyes and actually turns his attention to whatever’s bothering him. It’s holding a crowbar. There’s a gun strapped to its hip. It’s got a backpack on. It looks grimy, the same way Billy looks grimy. </p><p> </p><p>“Why would I go anywhere with you?” Billy snorts. “I’m not stupid. I know what you are.”</p><p> </p><p>It frowns. “What I <em> am?” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Go ahead. Kill me. Make it quick, if you don’t mind.”</p><p> </p><p>“Listen, kid. I don’t know what you’re talking about. But we can figure it out when we get back to the cabin. Christ. I can’t believe I even found you—how long have you been down here? Did it drag you here when it possessed you?”</p><p> </p><p>Billy blinks a few times. He leans back against the car door. Wishes he had a cigarette. </p><p> </p><p>“I got down here when I took a freaking tentacle through the chest.” Billy snorts. “Are we reliving pleasant memories? It’s not like I somehow forgot that shit. Dying horribly kinda sticks with you.”</p><p> </p><p><em> “What?” </em> It actually takes a couple steps back. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t get this. Like. What’s the point of this?” Billy gestures between them. “It’s clearly not working. So just like, turn back into a monster or something.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hargrove, I ain’t no monster. I got trapped down here when we closed the portal. I thought… I thought I was alone.”</p><p> </p><p>Huh. Weird. Billy still doesn’t believe it for a second. Maybe he’ll play the game though. He’s fully awake. Won’t be getting back to sleep while this thing is still harassing him. What else does he have to do?</p><p> </p><p>“If you’ve just been wandering around, how’d you find me?” Billy crosses his legs at the ankle. Cracks his neck. </p><p> </p><p>“I was heading for that warehouse.” ‘<em> Hopper </em>’ points at the decrepit building behind them. “And well. Saw the car. Thought I’d check if it had anything useful in it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry to disappoint.” Billy shrugs. </p><p> </p><p>“You been in that building?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. You don’t wanna go in there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?”</p><p> </p><p>“Lotsa bodies. That’s where I took people. Y’know. To get eaten.”</p><p> </p><p>Hopper doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. He just kinda stares at Billy for a minute. There’s a howling in the distance. Great. Dogs. </p><p> </p><p>“We gotta go.” Hopper seems to snap out of it. </p><p> </p><p>“Just get in the car,” Billy sighs. He shifts, dropping his legs, making room on the seat.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“They don’t like the car. Get in it. We don’t have time to go anywhere else.”</p><p> </p><p>Hopper seems to contemplate that for a second. The howling gets louder. He swears under his breath. Then he ducks down and gets in the car, pulling the door shut behind him. He slides his backpack off and rests it on the floor. It’s quiet, but for the snarling of the beasts.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not long before there’s a thud against the metal door. A dark shape, a horrible, fanged  bloom of a face suckering against the window. It doesn’t last long. A few more thuds then the howling fades. </p><p> </p><p>“Well I’ll be damned.” Hopper snorts. “That’s handy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p> </p><p>“I got the cabin rigged up with spikes and bear traps that mostly seem to do the trick, but hadn’t realized a car would do in a pinch.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure if it’s all cars. I uh… haven’t left this one much.”</p><p> </p><p>Hopper gives Billy a <em> look </em> that might be pity. Whatever. Billy spent his whole life struggling to keep afloat. He’s tired. So what if he gave up easy?</p><p> </p><p>“Still. Useful knowledge.” Hopper unzips his bag. </p><p> </p><p>He pulls out a creased, folded piece of paper. He unfolds it. It’s a… map?</p><p> </p><p>“Lucky, this was still in the station.” Hopper offers a small smile. He digs out a marker and puts a little ‘x’ with a circle around it towards the bottom corner. The map is covered with similar markings. Most of all—there’s a very big circle drawn around most of town. </p><p> </p><p>“You been exploring?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep. Found the edge.” Hopper taps the circle. </p><p> </p><p>“The what?”</p><p> </p><p>“The edge. After this everything just goes grey. There’s nothing. No trees, no plants, no buildings, it’s just ash and dirt as far as you can see. I mean, there might be something past it. But I walked a long time and didn’t come across anything. So for now, I figure that’s the border of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh.” </p><p> </p><p>Billy doesn’t really see the point. Figures maybe it’s some <em> cop </em> or army instinct. Secure the area. Map out your surroundings. It won’t fix anything. It won’t help. But everyone copes with stress differently. </p><p> </p><p>After making a few more marks, Hopper folds the map back up and returns it to his bag. He zips it up and opens the car door. </p><p> </p><p>“The cabin’s about ten miles from here. There’s a couple safe spots along the way, probably a lot more if we look for cars. None of them start, so I hadn’t bothered before.” </p><p> </p><p>Billy watches him sling the bag over his shoulders. Then he just stands there, expectant. </p><p> </p><p>“Well?” He prompts after a minute. “I mean, technically we got time but it’s probably smarter to keep moving.”</p><p> </p><p>“We.” Billy raises his eyebrows. </p><p> </p><p>“Unless you wanna stay here. The cabin’s got beds. No running water, but I’ve been boiling some of the stagnant stuff. It’s better than nothing. I think there’s probably some clothes you could borrow. I don’t wear the good stuff out into the wild, but you clearly need some.”</p><p> </p><p>Billy’s not sure how he feels about Hopper just deciding that they’re going somewhere together. A bed doesn’t sound half bad, though. Even if it’s a trap, what’s Billy really got to lose? Nothing matters. It’s a certain kind of freedom. </p><p> </p><p>So Billy gets out of the car. He kicks the door shut behind him. </p><p> </p><p>“You’ll probably want this.” Hopper hands him the crowbar. </p><p> </p><p>Billy looks at it for a minute. He feels—a little less detached. Another person is something to cling to. A pathetic shred of hope, that’s probably misplaced. It’ll hurt later if it turns out to be a trick. Loneliness fosters despondence. Maybe company is a reason to fight back against the dark. </p><p> </p><p>“I think I got a tire iron.” Billy smirks. He opens the front door and pops the trunk. The tire iron is still there. Along with a wrench, and a canister that’s got some gas in it. </p><p> </p><p>Hopper puts the wrench in his bag. Billy takes the tire iron in one hand and the canister in the other. </p><p> </p><p>They start to walk. </p><p> </p><p>“So uh… what did you like to do for fun?” Hopper asks when they get a ways down the road, into the thick pine trees. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh god. Please don’t make small talk.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want to talk about then?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“I liked to get drunk and smoke cigars. Maybe we can stop by the bar on the way and raid it. Last time I snagged a bottle of Jack.”</p><p> </p><p>Billy blinks. A cop offering to help him get wasted. That’s new. “Shit. All right.”</p><p> </p><p>“Atta boy.” Hopper claps him on the shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>Billy’s skin tingles a little at the contact. He hasn’t touched another person in god knows how long. </p><p> </p><p>It’s kind of nice. </p>
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